A Crisp Paper Fold

Following the warm scent of toasted grain down the sidewalk, I paused on the wooden porch of the corner bakery. Resting in a wicker tray near the bench was an empty, accordion-pleated pastry liner made of crisp parchment. With patient care, I pressed my paws down along its ridged rim, slowly flattening the delicate flutes one by one. Once it opened into a pale scalloped fan, I slipped a stray golden oat husk right into the center crease. It settled with a gentle snap, neat and perfectly still.